RWBY Weltschmerz
by ClickityClackity
Summary: A retake on the story of RWBY, focussed more on the main four protagonists of the show. Starts brand new at the beginning of Volume 1.
1. Ruby short

_In the same veil as the RWBY trailers that showcased each main character, these shorts serve as a similar start to my reimagining of a RWBY story._  
_This short presents a short backstory for Ruby and the origin of her passion for hunting grimm._

* * *

**Every Tree ****was Red**

* * *

Taiyang barely kept his eyes open, while Summer was already taking a rest.

"Are you awake?" he mumbled.

Surprisingly she grunted back, opening her eyes slightly to see how far they travelled.  
A groan came from her disappointment.

"How are the kids?" Summer asked.

Yang and Ruby were sleeping soundly behind them in the back of the cart.  
The rocking of the rough road was a remarkable anesthetic.

Yang had numerous red petals stuck in her hair, which contrasted well against her bright yellow mane.  
Meanwhile Ruby was curled up in a ball, sleeping between the supply bags.  
She was holding onto one of her mother's scarfs.

"They're still sleeping," Taiyang replied.

"Let me," Summer responded as she took over the reins, letting Taiyang finally rest his tired eyes.

After a few too many bumps in the road, Ruby slowly awoke.  
Her black hair was jumbled in a mess, while her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the forest.  
She saw her sister still sleeping, which meant no babysitter to hold her down.

The cart was going at a leisure pace, where even snails could keep up.  
Ruby suddenly got the itch to stretch her legs.  
Being a sneaky little devil, she got off the cart without making a sound and started walking along the road.

Ruby was at an age where she forgot things easily, got distracted even more so.  
It only took a little white bunny this time.  
It's twitching ears and pretty eyes entranced her, making Ruby chase it far into the woods.

Both Taiyang and Summer were lost in thought, running on almost no hours of sleep with only a small piece of bread to compensate.  
They gave most of it to Yang and Ruby, the gluttonous gobblers they were.

"Can you ask Yang to hand the green bag?" Summer requested.

"Sure," Taiyang complied, turning around to see his drowsy daughter, "Yang… Yang."

He shook her shoulder, eventually waking her up.  
Yang's first response was to brush away the leaves in her hair.

"Can you give the—" Taiyan's eyes franticly scanned around the cart.

"Where's Ruby!?" he broke the calm with his worried voice.  
Yang looked around in a panic, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I— I don't know! She she she was here, before I fell asleep," Yang was acting hysterical.

"Dad, I'm sorry! I wouldn't—"

"It's okay, it's okay. It's not your fault," Taiyang was reassuring her while rubbing her back for comfort.

"Ruby!" Summer roared aloud, not caring what would hear her, "Ruby! Ruby Rose!"

No sound.

Summer's eyes started to glow bright.

"Grimm! A group is gathering nearby," She hissed through gritted teeth.

"Don't hurt yourself," Taiyang worried.

Summer sprung off from the cart.

"It's fine," she took a big metal red box from under a cover, "keep going, I'll catch up with Ruby later."

With a white flash, Summer disappeared before their eyes.

Ruby was lost, not knowing where she or her family was.  
She seated herself by a tree waiting as usual, for this was not the first time it happened.

Looking up, Ruby saw the blue sky poke out through the red leaves of the forest.  
The white scarf she still held onto started flowing through the wind.  
Ruby put it on, to warm herself against the cold breeze.

Summer sped through the woods at an incredible speed.  
She jumped with great force from the branches, fading behind a white veil before emerging a couple dozen feet away.

She kept up her pace, quickly approaching the spot the grimm were converging to, encountering a stray along the way.

Readying her body, Summer activated the box she had been carrying.  
It spun and rattled as the metal pieces shifted, transforming into a large scythe.  
The shaft was almost the height of her body, and the blade was wide enough to cut down entire trees.

Summer dove down from a branch— towards the grimm.  
With the hand closest to the blade she aims for its vitals.  
With the other she spins it, just as she flies past the beast.  
Her movement was quick, not allowing it to react before dying.

The creature with black fur, masked in bone plates, painted with a blood pattern, dissolved into a wave of dark foam.  
Only its bone parts remained, yet they never left a coherent skeleton.

Summer continued jumping between the trees, creating strong winds behind her that carried tremendous force.

Ruby heard indistinguishable sounds coming near.  
She was scared but did not cry or scream.  
Remembering the sayings of her father, she just held out and waited for someone to come get her.

Hearing the wind whistle a faint harmony behind her, Ruby turned around.  
Several grimm who have been stalking her up to then, took this as their chance to emerge.  
Silently they came closer to the girl with her back towards them.

They were in leaping range, ready to bite, but did not move— for the smell in the air repelled them.  
They picked up the faint stench of deceased grimm.

As a strong gale blew through the trees, it brought along countless little white petals covering the entire area.  
The black of the trees and the grimm, the red of the leaves, the white of the petals, they all mixed into a jumbled sea of color.

Ruby giggled, excited by the soft fabric pieces floating around her.  
She saw a blur of black and red fly past.  
Her eyes tried to follow where it went.

She could faintly distinguish her mother warping from grimm to grimm, slicing them in two with just one swing from her scythe.

It was like a ballet dance.

Summer would bring her blade down through a grimm's neck, and as soon as it died, the white petals formed a cloth around her.  
The white blanket would then make Summer vanish, like a magic trick.  
Almost immediately after, she would reappear out of sight of the next grimm to kill.

She kept this up until every creature around Ruby was dead, never losing speed, always one hit.

Suddenly Ruby got yanked away.

Summer had snagged away her daughter, holding her in a cradling position.  
They were flying through the forest, only a few feet from the ground.  
Their eyes met, Ruby showing a grin with a missing tooth.  
Summer had a big smile on her face, which exuded a friendly warmth.

"You made us worry, you little devil you," Summer playingly pinched Ruby's nose.

Ruby slapped it free with a chuckle.

"Sowry."

"Yang's pretty sad you know," Summer pouted excessively.

"Yang no sad!" Ruby shouted.

"A lot of kisses to make her happy, yeah?"

"Yes! Kisses lots of kisses," Ruby threw up her arms.

A loud howl echoed from behind the two.  
Summer sensed another group of grimm getting closer.  
She couldn't let them follow her back to the carriage.

Their momentum finally stopped, eventually touching the ground again.  
A wave of white leaves had followed with the wind.  
Summer faced the grimm to deal with them then and there.

Dozens of beasts emerged from behind the trees, running towards them from all sides.

"Hold onto this and don't move," Summer gave Ruby a soft ball of cloth.  
Ruby held it tight as she saw her mother's playful face.

"Woopeeeeee!" Summer tossed her high up into the air.  
As Ruby's flight came to a peak, Summer reached into a cloth cover.

Her scythe was still embedded somewhere into a grimm's neck.  
It was surrounded by pale petals, which teleported it back into Summer's hand.

The blade of her weapon shifted outwards, silhouetting a more spear like shape.  
With the added reach she spun it around, and with one graceful motion—she sliced many of the grimm atwain.

Ruby plopped back into her mother's hands.  
She was ecstatic, immediately asking for another go.

"Ok, there goes..."

A fabric warped Ruby away.

"Ruby!"

It unveiled her hanging from a tree branch, held on by white ribbons.  
She looked down to see her mother dance around the grimm, making them fall effortlessly.

Summer threw her scythe, which sliced clean through a beast's waist.  
It disappeared through a cloth, flying back towards her from another.

She held out her hands, but when the scythe reached her, it skipped past Summer through— once again— a white sheet.  
In its place, Ruby flew into her arms.

The grimm beast behind Summer lost its head from the unfortunate path.

Only a few of them remained.  
However, some were crawling through the treetops.  
Summer had lost her safe spot for Ruby to occupy.

"Ruby, close your eyes," Summer brushed her fingers past her daughter's eyelids, "open them on one."

"Three, two—" Summer teleported her away with a slight throw.

Ruby opened her eyes to see herself floating in the air.  
She saw the expansive forest of red trees go on endlessly into the horizon.  
All the noise of fighting disappeared as the bright blue sky enveloped her in a serene silence.

Being held up by a makeshift parachute made from her mother's petals, Ruby slowly floated back down.  
Suddenly, she saw several trees fall to the ground.  
The forest had gained a black bald spot, and in the middle— stood Summer, arms stretched.

Ruby gently drifted into her embrace.  
Summer's smile ever so wide, Ruby energized to the fullest.

"Again! Again!" Ruby demanded.

"Huggies first for Yang," Summer stated.

"Yeah! Huggies huggies!"

Thus, the two made their way back, through the forest where every tree was red.


	2. Weiss short

_In the same veil as the RWBY trailers that showcased each main character, these shorts serve as a similar start to my reimagining of a RWBY story._  
_This short tells of how Weiss left her household to go become a huntress at Beacon. _

* * *

**Burning Blue, Tainted White**

* * *

A rhythm of rapid taps, that is all Weiss could hear inside the lifeless hall.  
The heels of her boots rang loud against the cold dull floor.  
The ceiling reached so high its atmosphere could produce clouds.

Every window, big enough for giants, made sure not to miss any part of the enormous family estate.  
On the other side hung a row of various family portraits.

_My face always looks so mean_, Weiss observed, _good, gets the point across_.

She was getting sick of all the bright whites and dark blues painted everywhere.  
Overexposure was an understatement, more so it was an obsession.

Weiss was considering dying her hair pure red just out of spite.

Finally, she reached the end of the hallway, after walking her legs out.  
Whitley, her little brother, was awaiting her patiently at the door.  
Seeing him gave her a headache out of habit.

"You can also _not_ drill holes into the floor," he mocked.

Weiss ignored his antics.  
Indulging that troublemaker would only give her more of a migraine.

"You should refrain from starting squabbles with dad," Whitley shook his head, "he's been very prickly today."

"Perfect time to tease then," Weiss jested.

"You say that…"

Klein, the family's butler, pushed the massive door open from the inside.  
It creaked loudly while going over the scrape marks that scarred the floor.

"Ah, please come in Ms. Schnee," he welcomed her into the room.

The arena she entered was massive, big enough to fit an entire army.  
The field in the middle was outlined into two halves. To the side stood a grandstand, big enough for one third of the people in Atlas.  
Of course, only for the prestigious ones.

Tension befell onto Weiss' entire body.  
That looming sense of a judging glare gripped her.  
She did not need to look over to know Jacques, her father, was watching.

However, Weiss was surprised to see her mother next to him.  
Willow tended to hole herself up from the world, for reasons she never wanted to disclose.  
She looked tired, but still put in effort to smile at her daughters.

Winter, the eldest of the two sisters, was already standing on the field with her back to everyone.  
Although she had no problem tempering her nerves, Winter never showed herself doing so.

Along with the door closing behind Weiss, did Whitley's waving disappear.

"Greetings!" Jacques announced.

His command put his daughters into a stiff, military like stance.  
They faced each other, back and legs straightened, head held high, arms stretched.

Weiss started recounting the steps in her head.

_Hands flat against stomach. Left first, then right.  
Wait… Wait…_

_Right leg stretched backwards. Left knee bent, almost right angle._

_Keep back straight. Bend forward, until my necklace dangles._

_Stretch arms, far back. Hands flat, palm facing behind me._

_Hold. Hold. Hold. Hold._

_Hold…_

Jacques clapped twice.

Both sisters released their pose.  
Weiss' face was starting to color red.  
Winter— meanwhile— remained collected as usual.

Their father raised an open hand.

"Prepare!" he demanded.

Weiss and Winter made their way to the weapon stand sitting to the far side of the room.  
They converged, facing away from the watchful eyes of their parents.

"Excited?" Winter asked as she started fiddling with some weapons.

"Kind of, more so to get away from here," Weiss took her usual rapier out of the stand.

"I'll come visit you… as soon as Ironwood runs out of errands to give."

Weiss hummed her thoughts into a melody.

"Well maaaybe, you should ask for a raise after a job, see how long he'll keep you busy then," Weiss gave a cheeky smile.

Winter was amused with a chuckle.

"Maybe I will."

After adequately messing around with the weapons, she picked out a spear— unusual for Winter.  
Its weight balanced nicely on her hand.

"Alright, let's go."

The sisters went back to their respective positions, standing a good distance away from each other.  
They both adopted a graceful stance, befitting their weapons.  
Their gazes locked, only being broken up by their father's arm suspended in the air.

Jacques put his thumb and middle finger together.  
The squeeze between them reflected the suspense in the sisters' minds.  
He raised the pressure, extending that moment excessively— from seconds to minutes.  
A playful game to him, of how far he can push them.

Then finally— with a snap— he announced the start of their bout.

"Begin!"

Winter started with a swipe of her spear, careful not to misplace her feet.  
The blade tip sprinkled a veil of little ice crystals that set up a glistening icy veil.

Weiss knew what was coming.

She took a couple steps forward— only using the balls of her feet— not letting her heels touch the ground.  
Weiss readied her rapier, resting it next to her head.

Winter thrust her spear through the sparkling cloak.  
Each jab sent out a razor-sharp icicle, flying incredibly fast towards her sister.

Seeing where the projectile would go— Weiss drew a line with the tip of her rapier.  
That line formed into a thin, icy cylinder.  
Like a sled on a snow slide, the icicle glided along the tube's path— away from her.

More icicles flew through the air.  
In response, Weiss motioned up a dense snow wall.  
The missiles violently punctured it— some even going through a couple inches.

After blocking the attacks, the barricade got crushed together— by Weiss' grip.  
High pressure clasped around the frozen daggers— sending them hurling back towards Winter.

When an icicle flew through that veil of hers, it doubled in size— becoming as big as her torso.

Winter had to dodge within a narrow window of time— barely avoiding them all.  
Her balance almost tipped over.

One spike scraped by the handle of her spear.

To counter, Winter blew away her curtain with a big puff.  
Drifting away like snow in the wind, it began forming into a thick freezing mist.

The chilling air started slowing Weiss' movement.  
Before freezing to the point of motionlessness, she managed to swipe the floor— condensing all that mist into a frosted moon symbol.

She sent it hurling across the floor of the arena, careful not to misplace a foot while doing so.

Winter only saw the attack at the last second— gracefully flipping over it.  
Just in time, she saw the symbol burst into a barrage of drilling ice spikes.

Her face was merely an inch apart.  
It was close— firing up Winter's spirit.

She stuck her spear into the ground, making it freeze and crack.

With a sudden spin— jerking her weapon out of the ground, Winter summoned a giant snow slide that raised upwards towards her sister.

Weiss started sliding uncontrollably towards the bottom— where Winter was waiting.

The swift speed she was going at caused Weiss to block up in her thinking.  
She was trying to come up with an appropriate form to use, but it all came up blank.  
Weiss started to panic— instincts kicking in.

Her desperate solution was to snag a handful of snow from the slide, throwing it at her sister on the last second.

It obscured their vision.

Winter reacted quickly— swiping her spear at where her sister was.  
However, it swung at air, for Weiss was on her knees— already resting her rapier's point on Winter's stomach.

The barrier of her aura burned a light blue where the blade rested, emitting a low humming sound.

Realizing in what position she was, Weiss let out a painful sigh.

Without saying anything, Jacques stormed down from the stand.  
He approached his daughters with rage warping his face into a maniacal scowl.

Winter and Weiss dropped their weapons, assuming a proper posture.  
Winter saw her sister's eyes start to tear up.

"Tell me, what kind of form was that?" he growled.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident," Weiss kept her head high.

"No no no. Give me a name. Come on, tell me the name of that form."

"Nothing, it wasn't anything that we—"

"What was that!? Uncouth boor? We don't teach those kinds of styles here little missy!" Jacques' harsh voice was pulling at her tears to come out, "I'm not raising a den of barnyard piglets!"

All of Weiss' resolve was focused on not breaking down in front of him.  
The glare that came of it was the nastiest she had ever shown him.

"Such a brat these days, is that all because of Beacon? Did it only inspire you to spit in the face of my teachings?"

"They're useless," her voice cracked.

Jacques started furiously tapping his chest.

"Useless? Tell me, who brought your semblance,"

"This family's greatest gift!" his volume blasted through the entire room, probably even the whole house.

"… into this household?"

"Huh? Who? Tell me!"

Weiss looked away, her eyes flickering.  
The muscles in her jaw visibly tensed up.  
Her breathing was shaky, mimicking the rhythm of crying.

Jacques tidied his hair, taking a deep breath to act as if he had calmed down.

"Go apologize to your mother, then be off," he dismissed Weiss with a twist of his wrist.

Reluctantly, she approached her mother, who was clearly distraught by everything.

The sadness and exhaustion in Willow's eyes snapped at Weiss.

That emotionally numbing frost she honed all those years had been thawing for a while.  
And at that moment it fully melted away.

Every thought in Weiss' head, every instinct she had, told her not to say it.

"Sorry… mom, that you had to marry that loathsome slug."

Whitley had started eavesdropping with his ear on the door.  
After hearing his dad shout out of nowhere, he had to know what was going on.

There was a storm of muffled screaming going off in the other room.  
Whitley had no idea who was yelling at who, it seemed like everyone was having a go at each other.  
A sudden vibration warned him that the door was about to open.

"—n't be ridiculous! How will you even get—" Jacques was shouting his voice out.

"Shut up! I don't care!" Weiss answered with a shriek of her own.

"Weiss! When you come back—"

"Go dye your hair black! You worthless leach!"

Weiss slammed the door shut before storming off.  
Whitley skittered after her.  
She was wiping away her tears, sniffing every few seconds.

"Wh— what happened?" Whitley stuttered.

"Congratulations on becoming his next punching bag," Weiss spoke with a broken voice.

"Huh?"

"I'm going to Beacon right now," Weiss took out a handkerchief to clean herself up, "and you're going to help me leave."

Whitley was keeping a watch outside Weiss' room, debating whether to run away from the whole situation.  
Just before anything could come from that, Weiss came out— big suitcase in hand.

"Ready?" her little brother asked.

"I guess," she responded, hands shaking.  
Her nerves were starting to get the better of her.

Whitley noticed.

_My my what a chore_, he thought.

"C'mon let's go," he guided his sister by hand, "of all the people to get cold feet."

They sneaked their way through the expansive mansion, arriving at its hanger.  
An aircraft stood ready, waiting for Weiss with a pilot on board.

Turned out that having a little brother, who smuggled in forbidden items from outside, came in handy.

"Pilot's ready, he will leave once you're on," Whitley escorted her to the airship's platform.

"Thank you, you're a sweetheart," Weiss gave a small peck on his cheek.

Whitley's eyes widened, genuinely shocked.  
In his mind, Weiss was incapable of showing any form of affection.  
His instinct was to say a quippy remark on that, but his better judgement didn't want to sour the moment.

However, he didn't even need to, for Jacques' guards showed up to ruin it in their own way.

"Stop!" one of them shouted.

Both brutes started running full sprint towards the siblings.

Weiss was quick to put an ice wall between them— stopping those buffoons dead in their tracks.

"Will you be okay," she worried about her brother.

"I'll be fine," he gave her one of his distinctly devious smiles, "let's be honest, dad favors me, by a lot."

Weiss rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway, time for you to get going."

Without notice, Whitley put one of his glyphs under Weiss' feet.  
Just before she could realize what he was doing, the glyph shot her away like a cannonball, right into the aircraft.

Her head slammed straight into its walls.  
Luckily, she had her aura barrier up to tank the rough landing, making it feel more like a love tap.

_Always wanted to do that_, Whitley mused.

He whistled to the pilot, signaling to leave.  
The aircraft's entrance closed, quickly starting liftoff.

The guards finally broke through the wall just to see the ship fly away with Weiss on board.  
Their upset gazes turned to Whitley.

"Sorry guys, she's going to Beacon," his sly smile flared ever so wide.


	3. Blake short

_In the same veil as the RWBY trailers that showcased each main character, these shorts serve as a similar start to my reimagining of a RWBY story._  
_TIn this short, we follow Blake on her internship of her first year at Beacon, during which, her true objective comes out._

* * *

**Double Ambush from the Dark**

* * *

Blake went around the passenger car of the train, giving out cups of warm tea to everyone.  
Her employer, Robyn Hill, sat in a corner, looking up through an open hatch on the ceiling.  
She was like that for over half an hour.

Even her subordinates were unsure why staring at the passing smoke trail was so enthralling.

Blake handed over the last cup to Robyn, smelling of fragrant lemon.

"What are you looking at?" she wondered.

"Nothing, just lost in thought," Robyn took a sip of her drink, "I'm sorry if this job is too uneventful. We don't usually take in interns."

"It's fine," Blake paused— letting the apology linger, "how much longer?"

Robyn took a deep breath, humming an unsure tone.

"Uhm, around 2 hours more or less."

A slow, deep sigh conveyed Blake's realization of how long the arduous ride would go on.  
While the cold hard metal wall was not the ideal resting place, she had little else to lay her head on, inside the car's uncomfortable space.

"I think I'll take a nap then," her soft voice gave a fitting sense of her level of fatigue.  
Eyes closed, head slouched, she drifted asleep with the rumbling of the track crooning in the background.

Coincidentally, the crew mimicked her sentiment of a good rest, one by one going into a slumber.  
Their minds drifted away, unable to fight off the heavy drowsy pulling their eyelids shut.

Even Robyn, one of the most determined and steadfast guardians, was powerless to stop her slumber.

They all dove into the deep sea of dreams.  
Not a thing was said.  
Not an eye laid open.  
Not a muscle moved.

A few minutes passed, and Blake got up, eyes alert.  
She saw that all the cups were empty— a good sign, and without stepping on any toes, she snuck into the neighboring control room.

Stained pipes shaking in circles, loose grate panels that rattled with each step, gears turning other gears, and a big mishmash of parts functioning as a control panel took up almost all the space.

The room was musky and littered with smoke, since it was connected directly to the engine room.  
Blake couldn't even see her feet on the floor without using the light of her scroll.  
In addition to functioning as an easily dropped flashlight, did the device give her a sense of the time.

_2 minutes until he's here_, she noted.

To entertain herself, Blake took out a manual from a cabinet— nudged between handles.  
It went into detail on which buttons did what.

Hardly entertaining, but to her, even a boring read was better than being left alone with her own thoughts.  
Sometimes she was under the impression some spiteful spirit lived inside her head, giving out the most backwards advice possible.

Only the soft tinkling of metal circulated the car, yet his presence— from the shadows, was felt, sooner than heard.

Draped in harsh black with a silver eagle painted on his back, bulky horns poking out from his forehead going through his stark red hair, a translucent mask covering his eyes.

Adam had arrived.

Being the first and only partner assigned to her, Adam felt more like a White Fang watchdog than a companion.  
Blake was under the impression he was just there to prevent any mishaps from happening.

"Where to?" she asked.

"The camp is near Hoya Bacu," he pointed at a map of the railroads hanging on the wall, "closest stop is Anakour."

Even for someone like Blake, he seemed to keep his responses to a minimum.

A few button clicks on the dashboard, that was all it took.  
The course was set and a cargo full of dust, sizable enough to power an entire city, gifted right into the White Fang's hands.

"How long do we have left?" Adam attentively asked while looking over Robyn and her crew.

"24 minutes."

"Should we take them out?" his hand stood ready at the hilt of his blade, "I can slit their throats, won't resist."

That was what Blake couldn't stand, the unending hatred towards humans.  
Everyone knew Adam wore his disdain for them on his sleeves.  
But even so, the ease at which he thinks to do such horrible things was upsetting at the least.

"It'd be suspicious, if only I come back alive," she responded.

With difficulty Adam suppressed his violent urges.  
However, the look of utter disgust did not leave his face.

"What then, do you plan to do?" he wondered, "they won't start taking prisoners now."

"We'll detach the cars, the cargo gets to go, while we're left behind," as if expecting him to get it immediately, Blake spoke with blunt confidence.

Adam poked his head out through the door, looking at the multiple layers of metal— serving as the train's coupling.  
From a point on his mission briefing, Adam remembered that the train's mechanism only allowed cars to be detached using equipment found exclusively inside the stations.

"And how? I didn't bring any extra firepower," his voice spoke with moderate sarcasm.

A quick, powerful jet of steam hissed out of an unstable pipe.

"I did," Blake announced while taking out a vial filled with glowing orange dust.

Crouching down underneath the control panel, she hid the small container in the corner, turning the top lid open ever so slightly.

"This'll blow up the entire car in about… eventually."

Due to how unstable the substance was, it became almost entirely unpredictable of when it would start a reaction.

_It's dangerous, but it has the least casualties_, a reminder to ensure herself.

"… What about the dust?" Adam showed more concern on colored sand than any human life.

"Don't worry, they're in resistant containers."

Like always, his silence and lack of talkback indicated an answer of compliance.  
A running joke in the White Fang was how frequently extravagant and detailed conversations between the two became.

When Blake stood up, an uncontrollable itch crawled through her head.  
She scratched at it through the hood, hardly making it subside.

"Take it off, no one'll see," Adam advised.

Complying to his tell, Blake took off her hood along with the headband stitched inside.  
Two feline ears popped out the top of her head.

Scratching behind her exposed ears gave a visceral satisfaction that could easily get addictive.  
Finally getting a chance after almost a whole year, Blake wanted to graze them until time ended.

Sounds of rushing winds outside the train abruptly stopped, betraying it entered a tunnel.  
The sudden loss of noise made Blake's hearing pick up more subtle sounds.

"…"

Blake's triangular ears twitched around in a chaotic dance.

"… Something's off."

At the same time, Adam started noticing little things, like a wrench and screws, rattle more than usual.

Suddenly, a low and heavy rumbling shook the car, Blake's ears reeled back— laying down flat on her head.  
Physically disturbed by the loud noise, she put her hood back on.

The sound ended as abruptly as it started.

"Come," Adam commanded.

He made his way through the passenger car, walking zig zag— to avoid getting too close to any sleeping human, either out of repulse or care.  
He managed to exit out onto the roof using the open hatch.

Blake followed, taking care not to bump into anyone as well.

The instant that cold air hit her skin, she wished to have brought along a warm coat.  
Light at the end of the tunnel began illuminating the trains exterior.

Dreading the oncoming addition of frozen air, Blake braced herself for the worst.

They surfaced to shrieking gales of puncturing chills, a steep hillside— rigid in its texture, and the unpleasant sight of a fall so long— you would die before getting halfway to the bottom.

The blade of Adam's sword stood exposed in the open air, its metal showing an almost perfect reflection of his face.  
Made from copied technology of Atlas, it was one of the finest weapons the White Fang possessed.

Blake followed suit, unsheathing her two mechanical swords, given to her from, and made in, Beacon.  
Together with a slew of other weapons, it was made to showcase the new technology of Atlas— explosive dust.  
Thus, her swords could transform into guns if need be and deliver shots of incredible force.

Both faunus stood ready to fight, awaiting whatever thing made that ear-puncturing sound.  
Unfortunately, it did not produce any noise when it pursued them.

A sudden, all-encompassing shadow eclipsed the ceiling of the cars.  
Looking up, they saw an enormous black mass loom overhead.

Blake and Adam dodged just in time when it swept at them, big gashes splitting open the roof.

Light revealed a good look at the beast, an oversized eagle— its body the size of a whale— its wings spanning almost half the train.  
From the big bone spikes, the bloodlike spots of red, and the stench of decaying corpses, Blake knew it was a grimm.

After its first attack, the eagle pivoted around to deliver another.

Adam was quick to respond.

He threw a palm sized coin from his pocket towards one of its wings.  
The silver chip spun rapidly, and when one of its sides faced the beast, a sudden jab of a sword came through— penetrating the wing.

Pure Mirror, Adam's semblance, was the ability to send anything through a reflection, given that it was mostly clear.

The creature reeled back, its painful shriek vibrating through their bodies.  
Adam's retaliation only seemed to put it into a fit of rage.

Talons of massive size swiped at him, he couldn't dodge every hit, some leaving behind big scratches on his aura.

Although he tried, Adam couldn't find an opening to fight back.  
Like a cornered rat to the massive bird, he was helpless.

Luckily, its attention shifted when Blake got a solid shot to its eye.  
Without losing any energy the eagle redirected its assault onto the annoying rodent.  
Instinctively, Blake ran away immediately from the enormous grimm pursuing with claws up front.

Blake fell flat on the roof, right after jumping over one of the intersections between the cars.  
Then, suddenly, in an aggressively swift motion, the colossal eagle jammed its claws into the alloy sheet— through her chest.

It had her pinned to the metal box.

Using its remaining eye, the eagle peered down, watching the face of its victim rapidly lose all signs of life.

However, the real Blake jumped out from the small train gap, the one she 'tripped' over.  
In her head, she considered herself lucky the grimm was dumb enough to follow her decoy.

Using the two blades as climbing picks, Blake started scaling the backside of the oversized bird.

Getting stung consecutively caused the eagle to flail and panic like a rabid animal.  
When it couldn't shake off the insect jabbing in its rear, the distressed avian flew off into the air, away from the train and the hillside.

Now catching a ride on top a giant spiked bird— Blake started experiencing her first account of acrophobia.  
All she had to do was look down once, to have her hold on tighter than a starving leech.

Halfway towards its neck, she felt a rumbling emerge beneath her.  
A massive spike jutted out from the creature's back, causing enough damage to Blake's aura it broke instantly.

Left with no means to protect herself from another hit, the little girl in her wanted nothing more than to run away.

_Keep going! Don't give up! _Blake's resolve spoke in a frail voice.

Another trembling sensation built up from underneath.  
She loosened the grip of her swords, letting her body fly down the eagle's back— a hairs end in time to avoid getting impaled.

After that, a seemingly endless supply of spears pursued— driving her down to the feathered tail of the grimm.

Unfortunately, one of the spikes got in a good hit.  
Blake was bleeding profusely from a large, nasty hole in her arm. Every time she raised it, a razor-sharp sting paralyzed her limbs.

Blake had little strength left, making it impossible for her to get to its neck.  
Together with the chill of the freezing winds, the thin layer of air and her loss of blood, she started rapidly losing control over her body.

Racking her brain around an answer, the trembling girl quickly lost courage.  
Jumping off would get her eaten.  
To stab it would be like pricking a pillow with a needle.  
Shooting could do something, but she feared the kickback would do more harm to herself than the grimm.

Navigating her mind led to many things.  
One of those was the resurfacing of an old memory— the first memory of that idiotic loudmouth Yang.

It was the beginning of the year.  
Blake felt she would faint at any time from the burning sun high atop the sky.  
Her hood didn't make it better, and out of its opening she watched the ongoing sparring matches.

One of them caught Blake's eye, a girl with bright yellow hair flared with vigor as she fought one of her classmates.  
Her opponent, a skilled warrior with the spear, put up a fierce resistance.

Their battle was so close, it continued on even after two other matches had ended.  
Slowly, goldilocks started to lose her edge, but just before she was dealt the final blow, her final act surprised everyone watching— including her adversary.

Blake barely saw what happened, but she did catch that the girl tinkered with the gauntlets around her arms, something that made them explode into a flower of flare and heat.

Both students got enveloped in fire, shooting the teachers into a panic— apart from one who looked more annoyed than worried.

Quickly after, the blonde's adversary— now without a spear— got tossed out of the fire.

Winner of the bout, holding their opponent's weapon, standing high and mighty while tickled by flames, was the mighty dragon blonde, later known by Blake as the clown buffoon Yang.

Reminiscing on the past caused more than a slight chuckle this time.  
As a first, one of Yang's antics inspired Blake, albeit in a strange manner.

She let go of the beast, falling down like a stone brick.  
Once in the grimm's sightline, it dove straight towards the girl.  
She was but a worm in comparison, ready to be eaten, and powerless to fight back.

Seeing the eagle race closer, Blake made sure her clone was still pinned to its tail.  
Offering up one of her blades, she stuck it through the hand of her double, making sure it would hang onto the thick feathers.

The sight already made her own hand sting in anticipation.

From her pouch, Blake took a small tube of explosive dust, glowing a bright orange hue.  
Many times, authorities informed her on how unstable the new concoction was, and that it had to be contained carefully at all times.

_Screw caution_, she thought.

The grimm eagle was getting close, its wings tucked in, speeding down like a rocket.  
It had its mouth open, ready to clamp down on the prey.

A bronze beak surrounded Blake, quickly clasping shut.

She broke the container in half.  
A brief wave of heat washed over her— just before she switched places with her clone.

The first thing the able eared faunus experienced was the massive air-crushing explosion that almost shattered her eardrums.  
After the ringing in her ears subsided, her body caught up to the pain of having her hand impaled.

Blake didn't want to detach herself from that black feather, just because of the nail-biting burn through her entire arm, caused by moving the blade one inch.

Luckily, she didn't have to, as the headless bird dissipated in a black foamy mass.  
Only a pile of bones remained, falling to the ground alongside Blake.

When readying her aura, she concentrated most of it around the legs.  
Recounting how much blunt force an aura barrier absorbed, Blake deducted she would have to sacrifice a broken foot, maybe even a leg.

Winds hissed around— causing concern with the speed at which she was falling.  
As Blake looked down to the ground, searching for a landing spot, her eyes came across a familiar sight.

Adam was waiting below, in an opening between the trees.  
He was holding up a metal piece— polished to a shine, clear to Blake what that meant.  
To the best of her ability, she aimed straight at him.

The final few seconds before Blake collided with his semblance flew by so quick, her mind barely registered what had happened.  
The next second, she was sitting back in the passenger car of the train, on a soft mattress laid out in the middle of the room.

Looking back, the wall Blake came out of revealed a spotless area that reflected an almost perfect image.  
She thanked Adam in her head, surprised by his support.

Everyone in the car was still fast asleep, except for Robyn, who had trouble setting herself up.  
To her it was quite a surprise to see Blake reappear out of nowhere.

"What happened?" she asked with tired breaths.

Blake was still recouping on her wounds, only then acknowledging the pain of the sword stuck in her hand.  
Before answering, she took time to make sure the story in her head was believable and consistent.

"White Fang attacked… and," Blake hissed when her almost limp arm pulled out the blade from her different hand, "I think they used sleeping gas."

Open air now touched the gaping wound.  
Blake held her clasped hand close to her stomach, trying to relieve some of the pain.

Robyn tried to make sense of things through her still waking, cloudy mind.

"Where are they?"

"They left, got off the train."

More of the crewmembers started waking up.

"Odd, to just… they must have done something," Robyn mumbled to herself, "did they tinker with anything? Can't be they got here for nothing."

One by one did the others catch up to what was going on.

"The control room maybe."

In the moment, Blake answered to elevate suspicion, but would quickly realize she should've played dumb.  
Almost immediately, she realized her error, and wished nothing but to take back her words.

Needing all the manpower available, Robyn stood up and started commanding her subordinates like usual.

"Joan, go check what those faunus did."

A man, barely able to stand, stumbled into the control room.  
Robyn looked to Blake, who had shock littered all throughout her face.  
A pat on the shoulder from her employer aimed to reassure the panicking intern.

"It's fine. You did a lot for a rookie," Robyn comforted, "turned out your insomnia came in handy"

Blake nodded along like a soulless corpse.  
She was stuck in her head, constantly going back and forth on whether to get people away from the adjacent car.  
The chances of being uncovered, or preventing further accidents kept one upping each other.  
While her mind raced a million miles to get to a solution, her body stood dead still in shock.

Almost accepting fate, Blake decided to let things be, citing her usual rationale.

_It has the least casua—_

Out of nowhere, the control car erupted in a big, thundering blast.  
Shrapnel flew every which way— metal plates piercing the air.

The explosion caused a gaping hole through the back of the passenger car, resulting in its detachment from the train.  
All the dust cargo carried on with the locomotive, while Robyn's crew was left sitting in a severed tail end.

The commander stood up, her aura shield blaring a dark orange, assessing the damage to her squad.

Joan was missing, last being in the middle of the explosion.  
Merlyn had a big piece of metal jabbed in his stomach.  
Callis' leg was mangled, barely anything left of his foot. May, Robyn's right hand, was knocked unconscious.  
And Vera lay in a big pool of blood, morbidly her own.

Without hesitation, the rest of the crew, that luckily had their barrier up, began tending to the injured.  
Robyn wasted no time, appointing her crew to necessary tasks.

It was pure instinct and experience that made the trained guardians move.  
They were not in shock, nor panicked, just started helping the wounded.

A rescue carrier with medical supplies, alongside a scouting drone got immediately called in.  
Victims got bandaged up while others motivated them to clutch vigorously onto their life.

Meanwhile, as everything went into chaos, Blake sat in a corner, barely comprehending what was happening.

Her thoughts were the only thing that could move, even then going in circles. With every repetition, did her justification ring more and more hollow.

_This has the least casualties._

_This has the least casualties._

_This has the least casualties._

_Has the least casualties._

_Has the least casualties._

_ The least casualties._

_ The least…_

_ Casualties._


	4. Yang short

_In the same veil as the RWBY trailers that showcased each main character, these shorts serve as a similar start to my reimagining of a RWBY story._  
_Now we follow Yang's story during her first intership of Beacon, while she has a grave question on her mind._

* * *

**War Under a Flaming Sky**

* * *

"Everyone ready?"

Close to two dozen guardians stood around an old, busted table, held up by a single chipped leg. Hiding the flimsy excuse of a stand, was a sprawling map, detailing everything from wide roads to cramped tunnels, illuminated by only a single, dangling light bulb.

To the side— away from the group— stood Yang, accompanied by the excessively garish Ozman. As they were not a part of the same mission, there was no need or even permission to partake in the briefing.

While waiting, Ozman tried to entertain Yang with more ramblings about one of his adventures. It told about how he once had to sleep on top of a colossal grimm, the size of a building, while waiting for a carrier to pick him up without upsetting the beast.

Every word he spoke got filtered out, and the focus that it wanted to grab, was instead directed towards something else.

_Then how would she get in? I need to ask about her parents, and her home. Must know more before deciding anything. She acts suspicious though, but that's not enough to go on_, Yang pondered.

This was her first real mission since arriving on the internship, and up until then Yang was more occupied with a question inside her own head.

"Move out!"

The sound of a scurrying crowd snapped Yang's attention awake. Every soldier left in a high hurry, all with orders to fulfill, roles to play.

"You two," Lowe, the squad's leader, came up to the two outcasts, "riled up and ready to go?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Yang's eyes flared with energy, finally getting a chance to go out on the work floor. Against that, Ozman kept his mellow attitude.

"Need a reminder of the mission?" Lowe addressed Yang.

"Pfff no, I—"

"One more time, just in case," Ozman interrupted.

An eyebrow raised, Lowe looked at the pair, seeing another bickering fester.

"Well, I'll keep it brief.  
Junior is going to attend his club tonight, with a large party going on. It'll be loud, busy, and cluttered with a lot of people, the perfect time to get to him unnoticed. While we raid his warehouse, you two sneak in, maybe rough him up a little, and bring him into custody. In a couple hours we start our sweep, he might flee after that, so be quick."

"How many guards?"

Yang was getting pumped.

"Normally he only brings one or two with him to private outings. But, if the going gets too tough, just let this mophead take care of the rest."

Lowe put his hand on Ozman's curly haired head.

"Alright sir, we're on it!" Yang responded with confidence.

"That is what I like to see.  
Dismissed!"

As the two soldiers went on to prepare for their secret mission, Lowe briefly pulled the senior of the two to the side.

"Be careful out there," his whispers were isolated between them, "Junior can be very dangerous. It's not that bad if he manages to escape, but a lot more so if she gets hurt. Focus on keeping Yang safe, understand?"

Ozman nodded along, for once reacting with utmost seriousness.

"But you'll get it done no time," Lowe lifted his tone.

And off they went.

While a truck full of outfitted guardians marched through the night, armed to the teeth, loaded with buckets of explosive dust, the duo of Yang and Ozman departed in an outlandishly colorful car.

One wore a thick, bright purple vest trying— but failing— to look like he was still young. And the other wore her signature tan leather jacket, darkened by a faint layer of soot.

The night was at its peak, streetlights outlining the roads, tall buildings fading into the sky, and people filling the nooks and crannies of the city, giving it life.

They arrived on a pebble covered parking, the stones making a low crackle underneath the rubber of spinning tires. It was busy, with only a few spaces left open.

When they stepped out of the car, a lukewarm air of summer times hit them out of the comfortable chill from the air conditioning.

Simultaneously, a lingering smell of cigarettes polluted their nostrils, even in that open space.

As they went, Ozman pointed out a backdoor with an 'employees only' placket stuck on. He made sure Yang noticed and took note to remember any possible exit passages.

At the front, a glowing sign above the main door read: _Bear 'n Share_,written so loosely— with the handwriting of a child, it looked like it said _Beer 'n Shine_.

Opening that door released a wave of muffled beats and rhythmic pulses. Yang felt the vibration creep along her legs and tickle her entire body.

At the desk was a lanky man, bald, with a set of yellow tinted glasses.

"Two standards please," Ozman requested.

The clerk looked up for barely a second before taking out two tickets.

"68 then," he replied.

Ozman paid with each lein causing him to flinch back in pain, accepting the tickets with suppressed regret. Yang already went ahead, and as soon as the closed off air of the dance floor hit her she felt the life of the club wash over like a tsunami of vibrant sensations.

Her eardrums trembled with each hard bass punch, her chest tickled from the tremors, her feet experiencing an earthquake, and the flashing bright lights nagged at her eyes.

Overwhelmingly loud shockwaves— parading as music— gave Yang a distressing dizziness.

Luckily, Ozman was there to guide her away to the side bar, taking a table off into the corner. Illuminated by a violet light coming from the floor, they sat away from the busy crowd.

"You okay?" Ozman had to yell out his throat in order to top the blasting music.

"Yeah, just… not used to this."

"Well, no surprise from a country girl."

Ozman's scouting of the dance floor gave him a hit, "Over there, that's Junior on the podium."

He stood behind the DJ, entertaining himself with a one-sided conversation, of which the listener was busier working his own sounds. The question was whether Junior knew that, or he just simply didn't care.

Forced to listen to his every word, were two guards sneakily tucked away behind two curtains, out of sight, but not out of reach, or earshot.

"We should wait and watch for an opening— when those two brutes are a little separated," Ozman concurred.

"I dunno, Lowe's group can start at any time. I think it's better to just go for it now, what's gonna change anyway?"

Ozman faked having taken her comment for thought.

"When things get wild and people start rushing out in a panic, their stampede can be the most dangerous thing in the building. So why don't we relax a bit,"

Ozman signaled to the passing waitress, "and have a drink. We'll get Junior when he's somewhere more private."

Yang seemed nothing but suspicious.

"Aren't you just after the alcohol?" she wondered.

"Can I get you anything?" the young lady voiced with an appropriate volume.

"Uhm well, what do you recommend?" Ozman seemed intrigued.

"We can get you the Honey special."

"What's in it?"

"Can't say," she giggled while putting her finger over her mouth, "bar secret."

Ozman had a boorish smirk on his face, typical for when he lost himself in childish impulses.

"Sure, I'll take it."

"Great," she smiled daintily, "and what can I get you?"

"Just a water, thanks," Yang spoke politely.

The waitress left with an order in hand, Ozman's sight following her back behind the bar. The music in the club shifted into a quieter, more moody tone.

"You nervous?" Ozman asked.

"Not really, more excited," Yang responded bluntly.

"Y'know, my first mission was also pretty wild—"

"Ozman, I would like to keep the sun from coming up before we clear the mission."

He clicked his tongue, "Well— in summary, a man almost drowned his wife when he found out their baby was a grimm."

Yang looked at him with horrified eyes.

"What?"

"Should've let me tell the story."

The waitress came over to deliver the drinks. For Ozman she put down a glass of colorfully mixed liquid swirling in a hypnotic dance.

"Will you be okay with that?" Yang worried.

"Pfff, talking like I'm some old man who can't hold his liquor."

"Just as long as you're good for the mission."

Ozman raised the glass— like a toast, out of habit. After he took a sizable gulp, his face shriveled up, comparable to scrunched paper.

"Oh wow, this— phew, this is—"

The lingering burn in his throat had Ozman grunting and coughing for a good while. His face showed beet red and his eyes watered up to a flowing waterfall. The man's reaction was nothing short of noticeable.

"You okay?"

"Yeah yeah, it's uh haaa— heavier than expected."

Ozman powered through his drink, although going a lot more carefully than before. After every little sip, it became easier to endure the sizzling aftertaste of the burning liquor.

"Say Yang, how do you— when it gets dirty, how will you fight, like, I've never seen it, so like uhm what style?"

"… I'm a brawler."

"Oh, ok yeah, cool, great, that's— that's good."

With how much Ozman started fumbling with his words, Yang got increasingly worried.

"That's good— y'know since uhm…" he paused with a squint in his eyes, "uhm well, that's good, cause I am well, better with—"

"Oz, are you feeling alright," his face started crunching up like paper, "… for the mission?"

Scowling with a look of intense bitterness, he flipped from an aloof clown with his head in the clouds, to looking like an evil child seeking revenge for his stolen toy.

"Yoouuu, you can't say that— I'm in charge, get it?" Ozman rambled while getting up, "c'mon let's go."

His swaying walk managed to carry him up to the waist high wall surrounding the dance floor. There, he leaned on for support, else he would fall face first on the floor.

"Go, go get'em."

Luckily, the drunken flailing of Ozman blended right in with the other bumbling madmen at the party.

"Let's Go Get JUNI—"

Yang shut him up with a quick palm to his mouth, but the miniscule force of that action, like a raindrop against a boulder, knocked him down on his ass. The shock shooting through his body sobered him up a little.

"Yang– Yaaang, I don't think– I'm, I'm not– I'm not okay Yang."

"It's okay," she reassured.

_What the hell was in that drink?_

Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the guards going on stage. After relaying a message to Junior himself, they left out from the back together.

"Just stay here, I'll take care of it."

Yang swapped their jackets, putting hers onto him as a blanket, and wearing his as a moderate fit. Now she looked more like a real party girl.

"No, you can't goooo," Ozman yelled, "you're not supposed toooo."

Rushing outside, Yang rounded the outer brick corner and hid from Junior. He was getting escorted by two guards, while a bouncer trailed behind.

_Here goes._

Yang bounced out of cover, a giddy pep in her steps. Her arms swayed in the air, her feet kicking high.

"Oh my god Junior!"

Her unusually shrill voice instantly caught the attention of everyone, while it scraped at her throat.

"Can I get a photo! Pleeaaase!"

Seconds in and Yang already wanted to shrivel up into a ball and roll away.

"Oh wow, you're so cool!"

"Hey lady, slow down," the bouncer put in a lackluster attempt to stop her.

He barely even pushed Yang back, letting her easily get closer. It seemed he had little enthusiasm to stop another fangirl.

"Just one photo please!" Yang squealed.

One of the guards broke off and walked to her with a powerful pace.

"Back off miss, go back inside!"

Yang focused her mind, taking in her surroundings and analyzing the two guards.

_He's got no barrier up. I'll go for him._

Up until an arm's length away, Yang kept up the charade. But as soon as the guard got close enough, she took a steady step, reeled back, and launched an exploding overhead punch.

The massive impact on his face made him twirl backwards, and as soon as his head landed heavy on the ground, a thundering explosion went off in the distance.

Fiery smoke polluted the air a couple blocks away.

The raid had started. Lowe and his crew were in the middle of taking down Junior's industry, and judging by the loud noise, it wasn't going down easy.

"Go sir— go!" the remaining guard yelled as he ran towards Yang, putting on spiked, golden, knuckle dusters.

Likewise, the bouncer geared up with a thick, long chain at the end of which was a heavy metal ball. A red bear claw marked the silver globe's surface.

The two crooks approached Yang simultaneously from opposing angles, their strikes timed together, covering both low and high.

Yang had no choice.

Her barrier took a hit— after hit— after hit, already starting to crack.

But she did manage to catch the bouncer's ball before he could pull it back. With the spin of a dancer, she tossed it away, yanking the man with it. His landing activated one of the car's alarms.

Just then, the guard managed to get another solid hit in, breaking Yang's barrier.

_Already? Fine._

The two gauntlets around her wrists had finished warming up, their sound of spinning gears announcing their arrival to the fight.

Yang swung in a quick right jab.  
That gauntlet clicked from the knockback, and

Bang!

It released a concentrated, mighty explosion.

The guard's barrier crackled.

And Yang kept going.

Left jab— Bang!

Right jab— Bang!

In between her beatings, she flipped the lever of her right gauntlet. It resisted greatly, requiring a lot of her strength to give in. But when it did, her gauntlet revved up into high gear, making it scorch with the sound of a plane engine.

Now when she punched.

BANG!

A bigger blast came out.

The guard staggered back a couple feet. Yang gave him no pause, rushing back in.

Left hook— Bang!  
Right hook— BANG!  
Left jab— Bang!

Right jab— BANG!

Sizzling splinters of his barrier flew off into the air. He tried fighting back with his first punch, but Yang moved her head out of the way, and followed up with a devastating, jaw breaking uppercut.

Now two were on the ground, while Junior struggled to maneuver his stretched-out limo out from the neighboring parked cars.

Yang took one of the knuckle-dusters off the guard, adopted a wide stance, reeled back, then swung her arm as hard as she could, launching the metallic item at the car. The collision it had with one of the wheels was so hard its rim became completely bent out of proportion, jamming the car from going anywhere.

Suddenly, Yang felt her arm getting knocked into her side. Her body went flying as she got blindsided by the bouncer's heavy hitting ball. His metal meteor did a solid number on Yang's right half, making it sting like hell.

Immense pain caused her to surge with adrenaline, feeding her semblance. The fire within her both burned with pain, while stoking her muscles.

_Relax, keep it down._

Yang riled up both gauntlets. Their spinning started warping the air with heat.

The bouncer swayed his whole body, putting all of the weight in swinging that ball around. It came closer to Yang with every spin, eventually driving her into a corner.

When the ball rushed by, she felt a swoop of air tug her in. The fixed arc came right at her face.

Left with no choice, Yang pulled the pin from her left gauntlet. All of its dust, explosive in nature, expelled out into a firework display of an erupting volcano.

The ball shattered instantly, into tiny fragmented particles. The resulting shockwave knocked both adversaries on the ground. Yang's gauntlet fizzled out like a dying light, losing all power and coming to a complete stop.

After that, the bouncer decided to retreat into the night, the night that screamed with war, sparked by fire.

Bending the door with his hands, Junior escaped the confines of his car. He ripped open the trunk, taking out a giant metal bat. The jaws of a bear embraced its blunt end.

He approached slowly, club resting on his shoulder, a slight limp in his left leg.

"You want an autograph girl?" his bat fell to the ground, clanging on impact, "then lemme sign your face, shark."

Yang stood up with difficulty. Her vision blurred, the world around her in a haze. The adrenaline was building up rapidly. She knew the temperature in her body was rising, not because her skin felt warm, but because the air grew colder.

"Your ugly mug needs it more than mine."

Muscles tensed up— quick short breaths— the cold air helped keep her focus through the heated haze.

"Of all times, you sharks have to ruin my summer nights," Junior spoke in a raspy voice, dragging the bat behind him. It rattled on the stony parkway.

Yang blasted herself off the wall, giving her the dash needed to close their distance before Junior could raise his bat. A high haymaker connected to his face, followed by another dust blast.

His head emerged inside a barely scratched barrier. Junior's hand gripped her elbow with the strength of a gorilla. Holding her in place, he reeled back far with his metal pillar.

The first hit from his devastating club had Yang sacrifice her left arm, letting it absorb the full strike.

More pain. More adrenaline.

The second hit got her right in the side. She felt her abdominal muscles twitch in spasmic agony.

More pain. More adrenaline.

Junior kept her pinned while swinging his bat. But before going for his next swing, he stopped briefly.

"Hmm. I've never had someone bleeding from the eyes before."

His brief intervention quickly went back to aggression.

_So, they've turned red._

From a standing position, Yang stomped on the floor, jetting her up in the air. She pirouetted over Junior, getting free of his grip when his shoulder couldn't bend any further.

Her adrenaline was starting to peek. Her skin glowed, the hot summer air feeling like a winter's breeze, and her muscles went into overdrive.

Junior made a swing for her head, but she quickly ducked under, and sent his body flying with a booming gut punch.

His impact with the limousine left a large dent.

"Of course, a shark handicap."

Junior shoved the metal box aside, along with a whole row of cars. He spit on the floor, the barrier around his face showing its cracks.

"C'mon then!"

"You sure your ride can take it?"

Junior was the first to attack, swinging his club around like a madman. After tanking the hit, Yang came back with a pummel of punches.

There were no more techniques left, they just barraged each other with blows, hoping to overpower the other by pure endurance.

The giant metal bat of Junior kept colliding into Yang, each time seeming like a knockout blow, yet it only kept fueling her. The more she got hit, the more she heated up from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, gaining her more strength.

Yang's every left-handed blow was followed up by her gauntlet letting out a concentrated blast. More and more it started to crack away at Junior's aura barrier.

But it was a race against time. For the more she powers herself up, the closer she gets to fainting on the spot from her head overheating. Her vision was already blurry, unable to distinguish Junior's face. Then she felt a bubbling inside her, as if her blood went past the boiling point.

At that moment, she had little time left. With no regard for her own safety, Yang started brutally wailing on Junior. So hard was her beatdown, that he felt some of the impact through his aura.

He staggered back, onto his car's hood. He was pinned, on the ropes. In a last-ditch effort, with all his strength, Junior swiped his bat across Yang's head.

The impact sent her kneeling on the floor. Her world was spinning, the stones on the ground dancing in a frenzy, her stomach yearning to puke.

Junior stood over Yang, ready to bring his metal bat down on her one last time.

Through her gyrating vision, Yang saw something shine under the car. Light from the burning warehouse, illuminating the sky, was reflecting onto a dripping liquid pool of oil.

A puddle had formed under his car, and in a brief moment of lucidity, Yang acted out an idea. She pulled the pin from her other gauntlet. It let loose all remaining blast dust, all of it under the car's hood.

The resulting explosion almost rivaled the ferocity that Lowe caused. A cloud of flame and smoke ate up several cars, setting off the alarm of every other vehicle in the park.

Junior managed to crawl away, with his barrier completely crumbling as a sacrifice.

"What the hell! Crazy bitch!"

His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable. Having briefly feared for his life, Junior was nothing but shocked.

"Suicidal maniac!"

At least he managed to escape.

But then, feeling like a man barely able to escape the lion's den, getting suddenly pulled back in, he saw Yang's silhouette emerge from the flames.

His heart sank when she came out untouched, only having her awful purple jacket fall apart into ashen scraps. Junior was without weapon, facing what seemed to be an unkillable demon.

So, he did the only thing he could, fall to his knees, extend his joined arms, and surrender himself, his begging doing a complete reversal of his attitude.

While Yang approached with heavy, delayed footsteps, Junior could only listen to her approach with his head held down. But when she got close, a sudden heavy thud hit the back of his head.

Junior fell unconscious on the ground.

Following him soon after, Yang blacked out when her body couldn't handle the burning energy inside.

Her ears rang. Her legs gave in.

Her muscles went numb.

Her mind blanked out.

Yang lost consciousness.

.

.

.

*Beep*

The smell of paper and wood.

*Beep*

Visions of dark yellow eyes.

*Beep* *beep*

Sounds of birds chattering in the distance.

*Beep* *beep*

Their singing rose in volume, their pitch raising higher and higher.

*Beep* *beep*

Yang felt a droning ring wrestle with her eardrums. Her eyes hurt to open. Her breathing irritated her airways.

*Beep* *beep*

Eventually, through the endless discomfort, Yang managed to get a sense of her surroundings. The blinding white walls of a hospital stung at her awakening eyes.

Her entire body felt sore, beyond the point of pain, into the sense of disfunction. Even tilting her head to see could barely be done.

She was still in her outfit, while her leather jacket hung up on the end of the bed. There were no bandages or the sort on her, only a tube connected to the middle of her arm. A clear liquid flowed through it from a plastic sack.

*Beep* *beep*

Somewhere Yang couldn't see, a machine kept up its rhythmic beeping. It was out of her limited field of vision, but it was in the room, continuously being annoying.

"Ah, good morning!"

A familiar voice sneaked into her ears through the ringing. Next to her bed sat Ozman, a box of sweets in his hands.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Yang's voice was coarse, like an avid smoker.

"Yeah I bet. Doctor said every muscle in your body had broken fibers."

"That happens," Yang coughed with a closed mouth, "…sometimes."

Ozman chuckled.

"Apparently, you also burned someone's hand when they tried lifting you into the ambulance. Staff had to move you around with a mattress underneath. People thought you were royalty or something."

A small smile crept across Yang's face.

"... And Junior?" she asked.

"Locked up," Ozman leaned in closer, "how did you even get him? Apparently, he was as healthy as a young kid compared to how they found you."

_Also acted as one_, Yang wanted to retort back, but the pain in her jaw was not worth the bad joke.

"Honestly though, you did a fine job. Lowe even says you've done enough for the internship. Just tell us and you can go home."

"I—" Yang hisses, "I would want to, really, but…"

"Being stubborn in the field never works out kid," Ozman interrupted.

Yang shook her head two inches.

"I made a promise to someone, and I'm more stubborn about keeping that than giving up, so," Yang lifted herself up a bit with the paralyzing pain of a lifetime, "it's okay, I can meditate like a monk."

"Really? There are alarms calmer than you."

"Pfff, you just wait. I'll be back in action by tomorrow."

A nurse came in knocking on the door. She tapped the outside of her wrist while looking at Ozman.

"Well if you stay, you owe me a purple jacket," he stood up, putting the present of sweets on the table next to the bed.

"It was ugly anyway!" Yang yelled back while he left.

She heard him shout something back, but Ozman was already out of earshot. Meanwhile, the nurse started checking up on Yang's condition.

"Uhm nurse?"

The young caretaker looked at her while keeping up the routine.

"Yes, how can I help?"

"Have you seen my scroll?"

She raised her eyebrows, looking around the room.

"Is it not in your jacket?"

"No, not normally."

"Well I'll ask if anyone saw it somewhere."

"Thanks."

The nurse adjusted a tube attached to the sack of medical fluid, and placed a hand on Yang's forehead.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked softly.

Yang had no idea on how to answer. At that point she was numb to most of the pain, but it was definitely still there.

"Fine, I guess."

The nurse made sure Yang laid comfortably on the bed. With a warm smile on her face, she gently put the cushion right, adjusted her legs and even gave her some orange juice to drink.

Yang felt pampered, like being doted on by a mother.

"Say, weird question, but," Yang regretted asking already, "I wanna ask, how would you feel… having a friend that is… a faunus?"

A grave aura overcast the nurse's usual bright ambience. Every drop of positivity briefly left her entire body, leaving only a husk of malice.

"Report them right away! Doesn't matter what they are, all vicious," her indirect animosity got turned into concern towards Yang, "listen, NEVER hang around one. Always stay away, or it gets you into trouble, or worse."

Without effort, the nurse flipped her switch back to the nice lady. It was a little scary seeing how fast she alternated between such extremes.

"Alright, rest well. Let me know if you need anything else."

As she left, Yang's jacket hitched a little ride with her around the corner. Announced by a loud thud, a rectangular object fell out onto the floor.

It was Yang's scroll.

"Here, right in front of your nose."

The nurse handed it back over with a playfully peeved face. Yang could only muster an embarrassed smile as she accepted it with a thanks.

At least it was a relief to not be broken.

The scroll opened with a satisfying click, the blue screen hueing Yang's face. She typed in a message, a short one, to catch someone's attention.

"Hey, you free?" it said.

Her finger hovered over the send button, a worrying thought holding it back. Yang couldn't help but ponder, to an uneasy degree,

_What if she was one?_

Swallowing the pill, she sent it out, immediately afterwards, putting her scroll away on the desk. In her mind, Yang began concocting all sorts of worries.

But the little ding, announcing a reply, soon followed. Yang opened her scroll back up. On the home screen it now had a single notification.

Blake:

"Yeah, what's up?"


End file.
